Coffee Sleeve Stories

Coming to Alaska

By Steve Rubinstein

The day we met it did not rain until we fell 

into a rocking slumber side by side 

her tent held to the metal deck with duct tape 

mine blown off in Ketchikan 

her lips so close I thought I heard her calling out 

a name she swore she did not know. 

From that day on I saw her shaped from water 

eyes aglow with each dark cloud 

spirit lifted, lit, reflected in each puddle  

forming at her feet from falling rain 

or so I would remember I believed  

when I believed in truths 

I believed in rain. 

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